


Red Was My Favorite Color

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Angst, Blood, Bodily Harm, Character Death, Description of Injuries, Homelessness, Peter is too sweet, Swearing, The Avengers can be jerks, Torture, Violence, Whump, may dies, peter whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Peter felt the hand that was pressing against his wound suddenly go lax. May fell back from her sitting position to lean against the off-white wall, letting the entire weight of her thin body thump against the weak plaster. She let out a choked gasp, one that sounded horribly wet, her gaunt face twisted in pain. Her eyes flicked down and he followed her gaze to a spot on her torso.A spot of blood that was steadily seeping out onto her white shirt”Or, Peter alone and on the run, is battling his own mind and fighting off the Avengers who are turning the entire city against him while also searching fruitlessly for the man who murdered his aunt.





	Red Was My Favorite Color

Converse clad feet pounded against the sidewalk, their slapping noises being lost in the sea of busy New Yorkers. Peter Parker smiled widely as he weaved his way through the crowd, moving too fast to be considered normal. Other people payed him no mind, though, but the occasional stranger would yell a curse at the fleeing boy before returning to their day of going through the motions.He felt oddly elated, knowing that he would soon be changing into his alter-ego, and that none of the people around him knew that the random teenager was the one who donned the iconic red and blue. It was a stark difference to how he usually felt, for his large secret usually bore down on him, weighing him down and restricting his a day to day life. Not that he was complaining though, it was nice to not be constantly on edge for a change.

Peter drastically slowed down his pace, flustering many people in the process, so he could safely turn into an alleyway without skidding and falling to the sidewalk. (He had done that before in his excitement, falling in front of many pedestrians while trying to find a place to change into his suit. It definitely wasn’t one of his most graceful moments, but there had been worse).

He made sure no one was paying him too much attention before ducking to side of the dumpster that was hidden to common passerby. Practically throwing his backpack to the ground in jittery excitement, he began to pull off his shoes, hopping on one foot as he wrenched the too-small foot-wear away. Tossing them carelessly to the ground, he ignored the grime evident on the asphalt. It was actually better than most of the other alleys he had scouted out near the beginning of his afternoon gig, which had questionable puddles of either human or mad-scientist-style radioactive waste scattered across the ground.

Finally sliding on his spandex outfit,he struggled push his foot through the small opening at the bottom. He eventually freed his foot, but began to topple over with the movement, Frantically stretching his arm out, he was able to catch himself by grabbing onto the wall beside him.

Slow down, he chided himself as he slipped on the rest of the suit, you’ll never get anything done being reckless like that.

Dressed in his suit, sans mask, he began to shove his school clothes into his worn backpack, careful not to to rip any of his homework. It was all finished, for the teachers had been oddly lax with the amount, which meant he could easily finish it all during study hall. As soon as the bell had rung, Peter was sprinting down the hall, texting May that he would be spending the afternoon with a friend along the way. The lack of homework meant he could spend the night as Spider-Man.

It was also Tuesday, which meant free tacos.

Wrenching his mask from the bottom of the bag, he stood up as he slid it over his broad-smiling face. Breathing deeply through the spandex, he made sure his backpack was fully hidden before jumping so he could start scaling the brick wall. He made sure to stay as discreet as possible (as discreet as one can be with a bright red suit) as he free-ran across buildings to put a few blocks between him and his changing location. It was slightly humid, the air feeling heavy with the promise of rain later that night. However, the impending rain couldn’t dampen his moods as he flipped off of the roof, free-falling for a few moments before forcefully pressing down on the triggers on his hand, sending out silk cables that ripped him from his descent with gravity. Letting out a childish giggle, he allowed himself to fall again before repeating the action, the cables effectively transporting across the city.

Peter had some spare time before dusk, which was when the crime usually began to start. Starting patrol early always lifted his spirits, but today it was even better. Free time plus Tuesdays meant free tacos.

He free fell once more, but didn’t shoot out another web, instead allowing himself to land gracefully on the pavement below. He clapped his hands together softly as he began to weave through the now parting pedestrians. Walking up to the back of a brightly painted food truck he jumped and landed lightly on top of the cool metal. The people surrounding the glorified tin canlet out loud gasps and Peter couldn’t help but chuckle. It was still hard for him to grasp the fact that people enjoyed when he was around, even if he was in a mask. There were actual real life kids who looked up to him. That still blew his mind.

“Don’t mind me guys, I’m just here for my weekly dose of delicious tacos!” He called out absentmindedly, lightly drumming his fingers on the roof, “Hey Pat! ‘Tis Taco Tuesday!” Sitting cross-legged, he leaned forward to peer over the side to see a bushy haired head pop out of the food window. Pat, her frizzy blond hair barely contained within a ponytail, smiled brightly as she wiped a loose strand out of her face.

“I am well aware of the day,” she said in attempted bland voice, but the bubbly humor that she always carried with her shined through, “But you, Spidey, can wait for your tacos like the rest of these hungry people.” Her head once again disappeared into the truck leaving Peter to chuckle again and start interacting with the small crowd that had formers around them. Some whispered excitedly to one another while others stomped away looking quite angry. He ignored the latter, like he always did, and instead started listening to the excited ramblings of a child who had pressed himself against the truck to get closer to the super.

Over the course of the conversation, Peter had scooted to the ledge, allowing his legs to dangle. He kicked his booted feet absentmindedly as he discussed how cool Iron Man was with a group of small children. He was pretty sure one of the adults was recording, but he really didn’t care.

His head snapped to the left as Pat tapped his foot, looking up at him with two beautiful looking tacos held in her hand. Shouldering past one of the adults, she met Peter half way, where he plucked them out of her hands, instantly shoving most of one into his mouth after ripping his mouth past his nose.

“You, my dearest Pat, are a life saver.”

She let out a small huff of a laugh, looking pointedly up at him, “No, you are. That’s why you get free food, hun.” She stifled a laugh at the way he twisted in humble embarrassment. Turning to step back through the door of her truck, she stopped a moment before entering and waved her hand in a shooing motion that reminded Peter way too much of Aunt May, “Now finish those up and get, you’ve got stuff to do.”

Peter stuffed the last of the second taco into his mouth and stood, giving a small salute to Pat as he pulled down his mask and dusted off his hands, “Will do. Thanks again!”

The last he saw of the middle aged woman was a slight shake of her head as she disappeared into her taco-making heaven. That’s why Peter enjoyed being around her and kept coming back. Not for the free food, but for the fact that she didn’t coddle him like the other people he had met while in the suit. She knew he had a job to do, and she often kindly reminded him of it.

Pat was a good woman.

And yeah, maybe the awesome free tacos were a plus, too.

—-

Peter paced atop of a building, his mood effectively dampened. It had started to drizzle, the air around him resembling a light mist and slightly diminishing his vision. He frustratedly flicked his eyes back and forth across the bright skyline, hoping to see something with in the labyrinth of streets. He was bored, for nothing interesting had happened at all that night. Three muggings. That was it. Peter knew it was selfish, but he craved for something bad to happened so he could do something.

With it a few minutes, it began to rain harder, the cold drops relentless as they pricked his skin. The thin spandex covering his skin did little for protection, but it was no cause for worry since the enhanced healing made it very hard to get sick. Giving up on his useless pacing, the teenager sat down on the edge of the roof and looked down, enjoying the tranquility that the rain gave him.

He probably sat there for another hour before the watch on his wrist began to beep annoyingly, signaling that it was time to head home. If there was more action that night, Peter would ignore it doe to the fact that May wasn’t even home to chide him for staying out late. He knew logically, however, that staying would be fruitless because of the fact that most criminals and civilized human beings stay inside when it’s raining. Lifting his face to the rain, he allowed the cold drops to rain down on his mask as he made up his mind.

Peter headed home, ready for a nice night of rest.

—-

Peter’s mood changed from bad to worse. His entire backpack was soaked, including all of his finished homework and his clothes. He was not changing from a wet suit to wet clothes, and he was not fucking changing in a goddamn alleyway.

He felt very awkward as he stuck to the wall outside his window. He knew May wasn’t home, she was working late, but there was a small inkling that told him that something wasn’t right.

He put it down to anxiety and cracked open his window. Sliding through the hole, he pulled off his mask, free at las of the sweaty confines. He sat down heavily on his bed tired from the long night of doing nothing. The rest of the suit clung annoyingly to his skin, slightly suffocating him, but he couldn’t be bothered to start the laborious task of taking it off. He allowed himself a moment of peace, to just close his eyes and enter his mind. To focus on the small tingling that nagged him like a small child pulling on his sleeve, telling him to pay attention, stay alert, not all is what it seems.

_ **Bang** _

Peter pitched violently as the sound echoed around him, breaking his fragile moment of tranquility and replacing it with waves of panic emanating from the small spot on the back of his neck. Body bursting with adrenaline, he surged forward nearly falling as he turned the corner of the hallway to exit the front door. The noise, resembling a gun shot, seemed to have come from the passage outside the apartment door. Through all the rush, a small part of was glad something was finally happening.

He squashed it and told himself it was selfish.

A small gasp broke through the pounding in his ears, stopping him in his tracks. He stood in the middle of the small living room, so close to the front door. Turning his head violently he saw his Aunt staring back at him. She looked like she had just gotten home, her work clothes still on and her hair still in the messy bun she usually wore to keep her hair of her face when she was working. Her face was ghostly pale as she flicked her eyes back and forth between Peter’s face and the mask in his hand. As she rose a hand slowly to her mouth, she visibly deflated as her eyes took on a barely readable look that held way too many emotions, hurt being the most prominent.

The panic that washed over Peter was tangible and he suddenly found himself unable to speak. His entire body was stiff and locked up, his throat paralyzed. His fingers twitched slightly on his half raised arms, as though trying to grasp for the right words to say, to fix this.

“May-“ it came out as a whisper, shaky and broken. He didn’t know how to complete the sentence. What do you say? Why aren’t you at work. This isn’t what it looks like. Look away. Don’t see me. I’m sorry.

Another gunshot rang through the complex, effectively cutting through the heavy and panicked silence that had fallen over the two. They both flinched, but peter was the one to move first, shoving his mask on and shaking placating hands at his stunned aunt.

“Don’t move, stay here.” His voice was stronger, now changing from Peter Parker, to Spider-Man. He felt guilty for leaving we like this, but he needed to get this done. Afterwards, he and May could sit down and talk about it. They would figure it out. They always did.

He ran out of the apartment, he saw in his peripheral the way that May broke from her trance and lifted her arms as if trying to reach out for him. He told himself to for get for a moment. Right now, he needed to be Spider-Man.

The fluorescent light lit hallway was deathly quiet, holding two bodies that were so still there was no way they couldn’t be dead. They both looked to be in their twenties and Peter slowly recognized them as the couple that lived a few doors down. Anna and Mike. They had been trying to get pregnant. Now, their blood pooled out and seeped slowly into the dingy carpet of the hallway.

Anger surged through him as he slowly walked forward, careful not to alert the hiding murderer. Another bang resounded, and out of one of the doors at the end of the hallway, a man with a small black revolver in hand. Peter has a very fast reaction time, thanks to his sixth sense, but this man somehow new his exact position seemingly before he even saw Peter.

Within the split of a second, the revolver had fired and Spidey, had jumped at the same time. A yelp of pain escaped his lips as the bullet embedded itself with in his thigh. He hit the floor with a sickening thump, but as quickly as he could, he raised his arm to web the vile man up.

“Peter!”

May’s called out to him, her voice heartbreakingly shrill and hurt. Violently yanking his head around, he saw her running towards him, her eyes wide with panic as she threw herself down next to him, glaring daggers at the criminal. Peter was dumbfounded. May was something else, to be able to be face by a man with a gun, and have the audacity to glare back. He couldn’t be prouder to call her his family.

Time suddenly seemed to slow down as he looked back to the man. He stared back with glazed eyes that seemed almost perplexed. Peter pressed down violently on the triggers of his web shooters. His aim was skewed, however, because of the large bang that echoed throughout the tight hallway. The strand of web fluid instead hit the wall next to the man, who upon hearing sirens outside, turned and ran.

Peter felt the hand that was pressing against his wound suddenly go lax. May fell back from her sitting position to lean against the off-white wall, letting the entire weight of her thin body thump against the weak plaster. She let out a choked gasp, one that sounded horribly wet, her gaunt face twisted in pain. Her eyes flicked down and he followed her gaze to a spot on her torso.

A spot of blood that was steadily seeping out onto her white shirt.

A small pathetic sound found its way out from the back of his throat, choking and suffocating him as he ripped off his mask. He frantically shoved his hands against the pool of blood, his hands becoming slick. He knew though. He knew it was hopeless. But that wouldn’t stop him. He had to help her. He had to save her. She couldn’t leave him.

“May! May, please, you’re okay, you’re fine, it’s all going to be fine, j-just stay with me, please. I-I can’t-“ his voice was shaky and broken and tears were streaming freely down his face, but a strong clear voice cut through.

“_Peter_,” May took his hand in her own, and he wanted to scream at how weak it was, “you did _amazing_.”

Peter screamed when he heard her heartbeat stop. The rough sound of anguish tore through his throat pulling his insides out. Her body, strong and beautiful May, lay underneath him, deathly still her body still warm. He brushed loose strands of hair out of her face as ugly sobs poured out of him. His shaky fingers left trails of blood across her face, but she still looked so beautiful. So strong. She was always stronger than him. She never showed her pain, always standing tall. She always saved him and he couldn't do the same for her.

Thunderous footsteps found their way to the hallway, invading his space.

“Step away from the body!” They said. As if he was the murderer.

Well, he was. Wasn't he?

He wanted to scream at the to go away. He thinks he did scream, he thinks. He doesn’t remember.

The voices insisted and a logical part of his brain told him he needed to get out of there. He needed to leave before things got worse.

He slowly slid his mask on, his weak hands having trouble with the task. Shakily standing, he raised his hands in defense, making the men behind him stiffen.

They didn’t see the webs coming. They didn’t expect him to run so fast, but he did.

Red booted feet pounded against the hallway as Peter ran.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! What did you think? I welcome any comments or criticisms. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! I hope you have a good day! Next chapter should be out soon!


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